


In Freud we trust

by babydragon7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Erections, M/M, Russian swearing is weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23914555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydragon7/pseuds/babydragon7
Summary: Napoleon lost an essential part of himself - his hard-on. Illya attempts to help.
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 87





	In Freud we trust

**Author's Note:**

> That's a bit angsty and a bit funny. 
> 
> Do not own any of the characters.
> 
> Would also recommend consulting a professional with such a serious topic. But the characters do what they will!

Solo fesses up. He is too drunk, and he is desperate. He sounds it too.

Couple minutes ago Ilya had asked off-handedly “Have not seen you on a date for a long time. You’re not sick, are you?” He means well, and he mocks well and he’ll probably make Napoleon’s life hell. On the other hand it’s not as if Napoleon could ever tell Gaby, he’ll die first.

“I did not have a date since Rome. I mean effective date”.

Ilya looks up from his chessboard and frowns.

Well, he started it, Napoleon thinks.

“I have not gotten off. Could not get it up”.

Ilya is quiet, like he’s waiting for Napoleon to go on and so he does.

“You see after Victoria had sex with me, she drugged me, and then brought me to torture, which I think you should remember? After that something got – how should I put it – broken or damaged. Anyhow, when I had a date next time, lovely girl, blond, I just… don’t know. Nothing came up so to speak”.

He somehow expects Ilya to taunt him or tell him it’s too much information. They are not quite friends, but for the last several months, they certainly spend some quality time together: being shot at, drinking – well, Napoleon anyway – even talking. Ilya had this idea once of explaining complicated crazy Russian expletives to him. One was particular charming.

“So you tell me this ‘Одень шапку на хуй, а то уши замерзнут’ could be directly translated as ‘Put a hat on you dick, or your ears will freeze’?” Napoleon sounded incredulous and who would not be.

“Yeah, but it’s a world for world translation, but the meaning is “Put the fucking hat on or your ears will freeze.” Ilya explained.

Napoleon laughed so hard that he strained his neck and was hoarse with it, and Ilya just smiled. “That’s why Russians could never be defeated”.

Therefore, they had this easy camaraderie, but this now Napoleon thinks is actually a loaded gun he’s given Ilya to shoot him with.

“I’m really sorry.” Ilya says instead and he is quiet and contemplative. “This must be awful for you. That’s who you are; it’s your essence, ‘a lady’s man’…”

Napoleon is very tired all of the sudden. “Not all I am, surely? Nevertheless, you are right and thank you for listening. I should probably go to sleep now”.

He does. Wobbling past Ilya, he gets to his bed and falls on it, still in his dressing gown. He dreams of guns and knives and that he rides an elevator, which stops and he cannot get out of it. When suddenly he’s back to holding Ilya underwater, his arms around the Russian’s solid body as he moves toward the surface.

He wakes up overly warm. There is a body behind him, lips and stubble on a sensitive skin of his neck. Strong arms are holding him, trapping his own arms. When Napoleon tries to move the embrace tightens. Napoleon is surprised to feel little stirring in the region which has not seen a lot of action lately. Actually, he is half-hard. Isn’t it a turn up? Suddenly he is released and free to turn around.

He looks at Ilya, who in turn looks back sheepish.

Napoleon has no idea what to say, so he just raises one brow in question.

“Sorry. You called for me in the night, yelled my name. I came and you were thrashing in your sleep. I tried to restrain you, it worked, and I fell asleep too.”

Napoleon looks at Ilya and signs.

“I dreamed I was rising with you to the surface of the lake. But this time you did not breathe”.

“What else did you dream about?” Ilya asks.

“What are you a shrink or something now?” Napoleon’s head throbs and it would be just precious of Ilya to say something about Napoleon dreams or his problems. Pot and kettle, that sort of thing.

Ilya shrugs. “Maybe your subconscious tries to tell you something. Dreams could be a gate to that”.

“Enlighten me”.

“I’ve read Die Traumdeutung. You are familiar with it?”

“Thought you would take anything Germans would dish out with a grain of salt” Napoleon is just sour. “Never knew you’d pull a Freud on me”.

Ilya is still in his bed by the way.

“You have a specific problem, Napoleon. Maybe Freud is what you need. So what did you dream of?”

“Guns, some knives, elevator, closed doors, going up when stopping between floors…”

“Твою мать!” Ilya swears.

“Nothing to do with my mother, don’t bring her in. Proper woman through and through.”

“Sorry. As far as I remember, it means men genitalia for knives and guns, women’s – for the elevator. You stuck in the elevator – so you know, it could mean something.”

“Never ever say ‘genitalia‘ in my presence again, Peril, I beg of you.”

“Wanna know, what I think?”

Napoleon really really does not.

“I think you lost a sense of control and you don’t trust women any longer not to drug and torture you.”

“I trust Gaby all right.”

Ilya frowns. “First of all, you are not sleeping with her. Secondly, she would cut your balls off if you’d tried.” He is right of course on both accounts.

“So, Sigmund. What do you think I should do?” He will not go and see a shrink he hopes Ilya knows that.

“Meditation, trust exercises, prostatic massage?”

Ilya is still on his bed, in boxer shorts and nothing else. Strange, Napoleon would have thought he‘d sleep in the nude.

“Trust exercises?” It’s ridiculous, completely insane.

“I’ll show you” Ilya leaps of the bed and drags Napoleon out as well. “You have to close your eyes and fall backwards, so I catch you.”

Napoleon has some extremely choice worlds on the matter in many languages. ‘Fuck off’ comes to mind. That to say he has no idea why he complies.

Ilya stands right behind him and commands “Fall. Now”.

Napoleon spreads his arms and falls backwards. Ilya is there to catch him. He smells nice, and he is warm, and after having to go solo (pun intended) for so long his body reacts further. It is embarrassing really. Ilya will kill him for sure if he notices.

For now, Ilya releases him, says cheerfully “Now you catch me”, and moves in front of Napoleon. Napoleon really had no time to think this through and when he says “Fall” Ilya tips backwards, right into his waiting arms.

Only he is heavier that Napoleon predicted and he stumbles backward, so they both land on the bed, with Napoleon down and Ilya on top, Ilya’s buttocks now pressing against Napoleon’s erection. Oh.

“Fuck” Ilya says. ‘Fuck indeed’ Napoleon thinks. Ilya scrambles of him and Napoleon closes his eyes and winces in advance. When the punch does not come he chances opening his eyes.

Now Ilya rises an eyebrow at him from a safe distance from the bed.

“Make it quick and painless, Peril” Napoleon says. He is a bit hangover still and all these confessions, strange dreams, and fucking crazy trust building exercise nonsense are too much. Better to be put out of his misery for good. He closes his eyes and listens to the sound of Ilya’s steps.

When there is a big warm hand – oh, very nice – on his hard-on and hoarse voice in his ear “You better put a hat on your dick before your ears freeze.”

Napoleon laughs so hard he is bound to strain something again.


End file.
